


And Now They Speak of You

by kitestringer



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitestringer/pseuds/kitestringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A second chance. (Episode tag; spoilers for "The Shrine.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Now They Speak of You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this poem](http://www.blackcatpoems.com/b/to_one_dead_ii.html) by Maxwell Bodenheim (and by "The Shrine," of course!). Thanks to [](http://pollitt.livejournal.com/profile)[**pollitt**](http://pollitt.livejournal.com/) for giving this a quick once-over.
> 
> Originally posted in August 2008.

**1.**

"He screamed for Colonel Sheppard," people say, when they think John can't hear.

That much is true—he saw the video footage, and he heard it for himself more times than he can stand to think about too carefully. Maybe they've seen the footage, too, or maybe they just heard about it somewhere, from someone who works in the infirmary. John watches them carefully, one after the other, with narrowed eyes, studies the nurses and nurses' aides, all of them undoubtedly harassed or annoyed or outright infuriated by Rodney more than once in the past.

"I'll be out of here soon," Rodney says, looking almost apologetic. John is in the infirmary a lot—maybe even more than before—and sometimes Rodney seems to think it's out of a sense of obligation, or because he's just been so damn scared for him he doesn't want to let him out of his sight.

Today, John is sitting on the next bed over, legs dangling. He pretends to play golf on his DS. "Mm hm. Should be any day now. I guess…" He pauses, gestures at his head. "Those headaches, though."

"Oh yeah," Rodney says, and winces dramatically, so much his real self that John has to look away for a second. "You would not _believe_ the headaches. And nothing seems to help, either. They're just…_excruciating._"

Rodney told him this exact thing yesterday, and the day before, but that's nothing to be concerned about. That's just Rodney. John smiles helplessly down at his game.

 

**2.**

"You know how they knew something was wrong?" John hears in the cafeteria. "He was _too nice._"

John's hand closes into a fist. _No._

He remembers when he first knew—or, at least, when he should have known. He was standing over Rodney's bed in the infirmary.

_"You're…you don't need to leave, do you?"_

His fingers had touched John's, took hold and tugged, and his smile was a sweet, trusting smile John had never seen on that face. Until that moment, Rodney had seemed a little drowsy, a little feverish, maybe a little more cheerful than usual—but he'd still been _him._ John's face went hot, and his stomach leaped with something like terror.

_"Hey."_ John's throat was so dry he had to swallow twice. _"I…yeah. I…you sure you're feeling okay, buddy?"_

_"Hm! Much better."_ And then it had passed, and Rodney's hand dropped back onto the sheets. His attention shifted to an approaching tray of food, and John could almost believe nothing strange had happened, nothing at all.

_"I'll come check on you a little later, okay?"_ John said, backing out of the room. Rodney nodded and smiled happily, already reaching for his fork.

_It's just the fever,_ John thought, walking until he was out the door, then breaking into a jog, fingers still warm from Rodney's touch.

**3.**

"You know, they were already planning his funeral?" John hears one day in the gym.

_That's a lie,_ John almost yells out loud, for everyone to hear.

And then he wonders: _Were they?_ And then, _No, I would have known, I would have been consulted._

And then, _Sure about that?_

From the moment it became clear that what Rodney had was this "second childhood" thing, John tolerated no discussion of death in his presence, not until Jeannie arrived and he supposed he no longer had any choice. People were transparently pitying, annoyed, and worried in turn, but if he wouldn't even allow _Rodney_ to say goodbye, did they really think he'd stand there and listen as _plans_ were made by others, as though he was already as good as gone?

Thinking about it now is enough to make his eyes sting. He throws a towel around his shoulders and turns away from everyone in the room, scrubbing at his face. He realizes he doesn't know what they might have talked about when he wasn't there. Maybe someone _had_ been planning a funeral. Maybe they had looked at Rodney's frightened, wide-eyed face and seen nothing but a man who'd soon be lying in a coffin.

John strides across the room to the heavy bag and begins to hit it. He punches and punches until his knuckles are raw, until every bone in his hands aches so hard he can't go on.

**4.**

"If it had been me, I'd have killed myself."

John nearly lost his breakfast when he heard it, came close to rounding the corner to see who said it, who could possibly have _said_ something like that—and then he realized the violence coiling inside him was there because the same thought had occurred to him, and probably to everyone who cared about Rodney, at some point during those dark days and nights listening to him scream.

Of course it did. _Of course._ How could it not have?

And now Rodney sits a bit awkwardly on John's bed, his eyes searching the quarters, as though he's devouring the sight of what he thought he'd never have again. John can't stop staring—at his eyes as they dart here and there, at his hands fidgeting on his lap, at the way he keeps rubbing absently at his head, messing up his hair.

"I know that you…" Rodney gestures frantically with one hand, the way he does, the way he _always_ has, when he can't find the right words. "I asked for you a lot. _Asked._" He laughs briefly. "Nice way of putting it. Anyway, I know it had to be…hard. To hear. I mean, it would have been for me, too."

"You don't need to explain anything to me, Rodney," John says quickly.

"Please." Rodney's voice is firm, but he won't meet John's eyes. "Yes, I do. I want to."

"Rodney…"

"It's one of the things I remember most vividly, actually. How I kept thinking…" He stops, swallows. "_I'm going to die, and I won't see John anymore._ More and more as time passed. And sometimes if I looked and you weren't there, I had this feeling like that was it, I'd never see you again. And it was…terrifying. And when that happened, I…" He laughs again and looks down at his hands. "Well, you know the rest."

John stands and turns and walks to the window. His throat is so tight he can hardly take a breath, he's shaking, and he's afraid Rodney will notice. But Rodney just keeps talking.

"Let people say what they want," he continues. "Let them say it was just, I don't know, _instinctual,_ because you're my team leader, let them say… Well. Whatever. I couldn't care less. I just wanted you to know what was really going on in my head, such as it was at the time."

All John can do is nod.

"I'm sorry, I swear, this is the last time I'll mention it." Rodney's quieter now. "It's weird for me, too, believe me."

John nods again, and there's a long stretch of silence. His mind is in a million times and places at once, and he still can't seem to say a word. He sees Rodney as he looked the first time they met, Rodney sailing happily off a balcony, Rodney hovering nervously over him in a jumper. Rodney learning how to fly, how to shoot a gun, how to beat him at all their video games. Rodney begging his forgiveness, showing him an engagement ring, saying _I can't lose my sister, John._ Rodney trying to say goodbye.

Again, Rodney is the one to break the silence. "Well, I'm going to just…" Without turning around, John knows Rodney is gesturing toward the door.

"You want to play golf?" John's voice is hoarse and raw in a way that hides absolutely nothing, and he hears Rodney release a quick breath at the sound of it. Rodney walks quickly up behind him, and then a smooth, strong hand takes hold of John's, squeezing quickly. Then it's gone.

"Yeah, why don't we? It's been too long."


End file.
